


Grizzly Ghouls From Every Tomb

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Community: tf_speedwriting, Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-04
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the tf_speedwriting themed prompt - <a href="http://tf-speedwriting.livejournal.com/386223.html">#2 - Horror/Gothic</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Grizzly Ghouls From Every Tomb

Sam’s sneakers slapped against the linoleum flooring of the Natural History Museum, arms outstretched slightly by his side to aid his balance. His breath was harsh in his ears, thrumming in his throat and chest, ratcheting in ragged gasps flying from parched lips. It seemed as though he had been running for ages, twisting through serpentine corridors that seemed to have no end, weaving through unsuspecting knots of people who protested the fact that he was running through the museum.

To say that Sam Witwicky was lost within the confines of the seemingly expansive building would be an understatement. He’d long since been separated from his college tour party since the pursuit had started, with an ancient mummy creaking out of its sarcophagus and zoning in upon the horrified Sam. No matter how hard he tried to shake his undead pursuer, the mummy behind him continued to keep pace with him, continuously reaching with bandaged hands to destroy him.

Its feet, long since dead and mired in ancient Egyptian history, kept perfect time with his own. This seemed impossible to Sam, as the last time the person inside the bandages had walked upon the Earth had been at least two thousand years prior to its current lease of life. The mummified remains should not have been able to keep up, as it no longer was the proverbial spring chicken of its living days. He didn’t even know if the being was male or female, and quite frankly, given the circumstances, he barely cared. All he cared about was getting away and staying alive, preferably not becoming either the thing’s next meal or turned into the living dead as well.

“Bee,” Sam yelled, hoping that the kindly Autobot sworn to be his guardian could hear him.

Hell, he’d even take Optimus Prime’s help if he but knew of Sam’s predicament. The fact that Optimus was battling Decepticons in far off East Asia didn’t escape Sam’s already overloaded notice, so it seemed unlikely that Optimus would aid him. He continued praying for Bumblebee’s assistance, looking for the distinctive flash of yellow and black every time he turned a fresh corner.

Behind him he heard a muffled roar, the heavy muted slap-flap-slap of bandaged feet keeping up with him, and could almost feel the mummy’s hot breath sand-blasting against the nape of his neck. He shivered, imagining the feel of mummified, ancient flesh closing about his throat, cutting off his air supply and thus ending his life.

He turned another corner, hoping that that sudden, evasive manoeuvre would shake the thing from his tail. No such luck; the mummy followed him. Sam cursed and turned another corner, pounding through the display of ancient dinosaur bones. A Tyrannosaurus Rex towered high overhead and seemingly laughing at his plight, fossilized teeth pointing dagger edged smiles upon the floor below.

Sam heard the mummy’s hot Egyptian pursuit and he wondered again why the thing was even following him. He didn’t even if there was a reason. All he knew was that he needed escape and promptly. He passed the front entrance, glass doors overlooking the street for perhaps the seventh time since the crazy pursuit started, glancing through the glass double-wide doors in hopes of seeing his Autobot protector. He continued running, seeing the briefest flash of bright, bright yellow from the corner of his eye. He circled the base of the Tyrannosaurus bones once more, just as the front doors exploded inwards, the glass clattering to the ground in sharp, bright tones of musical clarity. Tyres screeched against the overly shiny floors, Bumblebee’s sleek shape skidding to the rescue. Sam heard the familiar whines of transformation as Bumblebee turned from Camaro to Autobot, guns ready and blazing cold blue fire at the mummy’s head.

“Stand and deliver,” came the faint crackle-burst sounds of Adam Ant’s “Stand and Deliver” over the Autobot’s speaker system. “Your money or your life.”

Sam panted around the water fountain, desperately needing a drink to soothe his parched throat yet having no time to even do that. The mummy continued on its ancient way, fingers grasping now for Sam, moaning unintelligibly and scent reeking its way up Sam’s nostrils. A brief “whoomph” of Autobot fire clattered through the air, blowing the mummy into pieces and dust, arcing every which way through the air and raining down upon the linoleum. Sam screamed, skidding to a halt and unbalancing himself so badly, he tumbled to the floor. His elbows and his head collided with the too hard obstacle beneath him, and stars exploded in firework-lace patterns behind his retinas. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have lost consciousness for a few seconds, blackness receding to reveal the glowing blue eyes of Bumblebee within close range. The Autobot’s metallic hand was resting gently upon Sam’s back, fingers massaging against him as though the Autobot was trying to rouse him, not quite understanding what had happened to the human.

“I’m fine, Bee,” Sam said, groggily, daring to sit up and wincing as the room and Bumblebee see-sawed and swam before his unsteady eyes. “Took a tumble, is all.”

The weight of Bumblebee’s hand eased from Sam’s back, yet the Autobot still watched him closely. Sam wobbled to his feet, feeling the room sway and shimmy around him in sickening rolling motions. Sam held one hand to his head, rubbing careful fingers over the spot where his head collided with unforgiving floor, knowing that there would be a bruise there come morning.

A crowd was starting to form around them, open-mouthed goggling stares aimed directly upwards at the towering form of bumblebee standing innocuously beside the skeleton of the Tyrannosaurus Rex. Most seemed to think that the Autobot was part of the display, until he moved again, bending down to scoop Sam from where he still stood. With a roar and whine of servos, Bumblebee transformed from ‘bot into Camaro once more, leaving trails of smoking rubber upon the previously clean floor as he peeled away from the side of the fossilized bones. Sam heaved a sigh of relief, glad to be out of the confines of the dusty and boring - to him - museum. He fiddled incessantly with a snag on his sleeve as he spoke.

“What I don’t understand is why that mummified piece of crap was even after me,” he mused, more to himself than to Bumblebee.

The Autobot’s radio crackled and whistled into life again, before it settled into something that Sam easily recognised.

“The foulest stench is in the air, the funk of forty thousand years, and grizzly ghouls from every tomb, are closing in to seal your doom,” came the distinctive, sepulchral tones of Vincent Price set over the driving bars of Michael Jackson's Thriller.

Sam’s head connected with the back of his seat, eyes fluttering closed as he realized the significance of the day.

“It’s Halloween,” he said, quietly. “The time when they say the dead rise again, when the veil between the world of the living and the dead is thinnest. I get it.”

The only response he received from Bumblebee was an acknowledging silence. Sam sighed, needing even that inconsequential noise to fill the companionable void hanging between them.

“Just take me home, Bee,” he said, before Bumblebee’s engine roared into renewed life, heading for home, away from the rising dead.


End file.
